How Are You?

It's so strange, but here I am. Sitting in a traffic jam. Trying hard to analyze. If my heart is made of ice, Of ice. How Are you? She is waiting for my reply. Nothing new, busy, goodbye. I know she's crying, she's bitterly crying. I Dream of feeling something pick me inside. This is what I could never hide. I'm not even trying, not even trying. She's as tender as a dove. She's the girl whom I Don't love. Passion is a kind of ghost. But you know love can't be Forced, be forced. How Are you? She is waiting for my reply. Nothing new, I'm busy, goodbye. I know she's crying, she's bitterly crying. I Dream of feeling something pick me inside. This is what I could never hide. I'm not even trying, not even trying.